


Booming Business

by hexbreeder



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blackmail, Multi, Sex Work, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexbreeder/pseuds/hexbreeder
Summary: For the kinkmeme:"Newt/Gnarlak - blackmail, dubcon.Instead of a bowtruckle, Gnarlak asks for a sexual favor from Newt (what it is is up to you) in exchange for information. Bonus if Newt actually considers it a bargain since at least he doesn't have to give away any of his animals."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt found here: http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=5323#cmt5323
> 
> Super short, but wanted to raise it up the flagpole and see who salutes. 
> 
> No warnings for this one besides blackmail for sex work. Actual sex stuff will come next chapter.
> 
> I kept thinking about how this might go down. Then I started reading about sexuality in the 1920s, and really enjoyed reading about petting parties. Petting parties were pretty cool, but I imagine there were super sketchy ones too - like the one Gnarlak is apparently hosting in this fic to profit off the booming pornography industry hahah

Newt can hardly believe what he’s done. As Pickett is ripped off his hand he can barely function for the shame it causes him. Still, it’s either this or death in the custody of MACUSA. Assuming he gets the opportunity, he’ll take Pickett back by force. But, what if he doesn’t? His heart races.  
  
Gnarlak smirks at Newt’s reaction, takes a long drawl on the cigar, “Aw, now don’t look so sad. There is one other option that might be more profitable for me.”  
  
Newt’s eyes light up, eagerly he asks “You’ll give him back? What is the option?”  
  
“You ever hear of a petting party, Mr. Scamander?”  
  
Tina’s eyes go wide and she looks at Gnarlak with a slow and vicious nod for no.  
  
“Couldn’t say.” Newt thinks hard for a moment. Petting? “Does it um, have to do with animals?”  
  
Gnarlak can’t help but throw his head back and laugh at that, “In a sense, perhaps.”  
  
Confused, Newt tries to hurry things along, “It doesn’t matter. What do I have to do for you to give me Pickett back?”  
  
Gnarlack leans forward slightly, “We’re in the roaring 20s, and I’ve never seen humans so obsessed with their own sexuality. Secret perverts are becoming bold, prudes are daring to adventure, the females are eager to sexually dominate the males. It’s becoming quite the industry. Still, not a lot of young attractive men are willing to do what this new market demands. You come on down to the petting party next week, do everything you're told to do, and see if you can make the amount of money the bowtruckle is worth. Not including the money to be made off the photos we’ll be taking, of course.”  
  
Barely paying attention, Newt is tearily focused on Pickett in Gnarlak’s insensitive hand. The goblin doesn't know how to hold him at all. Pickett's delicate little limbs are still straining towards him. Newt says without hesitation, “Yes. Anything.”  
  
“This is serious business, Mr. Scamander. I’ll be having my assistant make the unbreakable vow with you for this investment.”  
  
Newt gulps, but still doesn’t hesitate, “Yes.”  
  
Tina looks fully alarmed, “Newt, no-“  
  
“Please don’t try to stop me.” Newt says, refusing to look at anyone, cheeks burning at the implications.  
  
Gnarlack’s assistant lifts him up impatiently by his arm.  
  
Although Tina feels sick, she attempts to look authoritative as most of the bar stares at the making of the unbreakable vow. Many smile mischievously, some look rather concerned, others ignore it entirely. Queenie stares on utterly horrified. Jacob looks deeply worried at his companions’ expressions.  
  
The only vow Gnarlak's assistant risks in breaking is the vow to assure Newt makes it to the party.  
  
Pickett is returned to his lapel after the exchange, and he breathes a sigh of relief.  
  
Newt doesn’t regret his decision even when Gnarlak betrays them. He has at least assured Pickett’s safety.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: drugs, fellatio, bukakke, enema, dubious consent
> 
> Welp, rushed this on out. Looks like this may become my need for smut outlet since I do have more in store. Let me know what you think, and what you want to see. I appreciate all the comments and how eager you guys are to see where this goes!
> 
> (No proof reading, we die like men.)

Nearly a week later, the trio are sitting down to tea, enjoying their time together and learning more about each other.

It wasn’t often Newt was able to enjoy moments of respite like this. He simply couldn't help the smile on his face, glowing with their victory. More than that, he had developed bonds with other people; not an easy feat for him despite the many half hearted tries throughout his life. It was quite a relief to know they wanted to continue spending time with him after the struggles that forced them together settled down. He would treasure Tina and Queenie’s friendship forever. Jacob's as well, with or without his memories.

Caught up in a conversation about legilimence and empathy found naturally in certain creatures, he barely noticed Tina leaving to answer a knock at the door.

Queenie’s smile falters, as does Newt’s when he hears the voice.

“I’m here for Mr. Scamander.”

He had completely forgotten. Though he recollects when he sees something dark and almost _hungry_ in the man’s eyes. It’s Gnarlak’s assistant, looking every bit professional as he does intimidating.

The invisible mark of their unbreakable vow burns like a hot wire as if to send a warning.

 _‘That's right.’_ His heart kicks up a notch. _‘It’s something sexual.’_

Queenie puts a comforting hand on his shoulder as they stand together.

Tina is quick to react, “We could go with you. Make sure you're safe and-”

“No.” The man cuts off strictly.

Newt imagines what scenario he may wind up in, and feels his face heat at the thought of Tina or Queenie seeing him naked, “It's fine, really. I um, would rather not have you two there. Sorry, it's not that I don't appreciate it.”

Gnarlak’s assistant strides into the room and grabs Newt’s arm with confidence, “To fulfill our vow, Mr. Scamander must go alone. And do exactly as I say.”

Newt doesn't particularly appreciate being manhandled. He knows he must go, but he can't help but tense away from the grasp and pointedly look in the other direction as he staggers along.

The man sighs gruffly, takes Newt's face between his hands to force him to make eye contact. It isn’t until now, looking up, that Newt realizes how large he is.  “Is that clear? I say this for both our sakes. Take every order you’re given, or we’re both killed by the damned vow.”

Newt becomes pliant in his grasp. He swears he sees a hint of fear behind the brooding bodyguard demeanor. It occurs to him that this man might not be entirely villainous in this whole affair, having also technically risked a lot by making the vow. Self preservation aside, he couldn’t stand to be responsible for this person’s death as well.

“I understand, Mr….”

“Sir. Only refer to me as Sir.”

“Um. Yes, Sir.”

‘Sir’ seems quite pleased by the response.

He notices Tina and Queenie giving each other odd looks. He reassures them once again that he’ll be fine before so-called Sir apparates them away.

Hopelessly, Queenie talks to the spot where they vanished, “Oh Newt, honey. Don’t take pity on that man. He wants to eat you alive.”

\----

They land in the entryway of a what appears to be a large and lavish flat. The curtains are drawn tightly, but through them he can see the lingering light of day.

As Newt is led through the flat, he is ill-prepared for the sight that greets him Strange mechanisms and furniture are set up precariously in the large room. He has no idea what they are used for, but they unnerve him greatly. There’s a large wooden cross with cuffs that vaguely remind him of something those Salem witch-hunt people might want to use to torture or kill witches. A steel cage isn’t far from it. There’s a chest full of what appears to be rope and strips of leather.

However, he only catches a glimpse of all this, as well muffled voices in another room, before he’s handed off to another man in front of a large lavatory.

“Well, here he is. Do your magic.” Sir pushes him forward.

Stumbling into the washroom, he hears the door lock behind him.

He turns awkwardly to the man he’s been given to, “Um. Hello.”

Newt feels no reason not to attempt to be polite. Formal. This is a business situation, right?

Although continually determined to keep his eyes glued to the ground for as much as this situation as possible, he takes a look at the person he’s trapped in the bathroom with. He looks clinical with gloves and tight clothing. However, he possesses a baffling sort of style as well. Even more eccentric wizards rarely sport so many piercings.

The man looks him up and down calculatingly, eagerly, “Why hello there, doll. You look like you’ve no clue what you’re in for. You’re still not stripping, so I’m assuming this is your first time.” He makes an impatient gesture.

“Ah...you’re not wrong” Newt sighs as he takes his clothes off slowly, procrastinating, embarrassed.

“Well, don’t be so embarrassed by me, sweetie. They just hire me to primp you, fluff you,” he wipes at his wand with a cloth, “Have a penchant for these things”

Newt is instructed to step into the bathtub, face the wall. He’s warned about an enema, which sounds familiar, like something out of a recent magazine, perhaps a kind of soap? He doesn’t recollect what it is until he feels gloved hands separate his cheeks and penetrate him, immediately flooding him with warm fluid. The too-deep sick gushing feeling makes him whimper. Additionally, he’s disturbed to recognize the feel of magic, the feel of a wand - who would do such a thing? The fluid inside jitters and seems to have a mind of it’s own. It practically crackles inside him, dissipates, and trickles out clear and mysteriously hot when the wand is removed.

He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until it was over. Panting, cheeks burning, he looks over his shoulder, expression pleading, “Is it over?”

The man laughs without looking, occupying himself sanitizing his wand, “You’re going to have to deal with much worse.” When he looks to Newt he looks almost startled, “Are you not alright? I warned you.”

Newt bites the inside of his lip, “I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Shower time.”

Relieved, Newt attempts to close the curtain, but the man even insists on helping with this. He instructs him to use specific products, scrubs at his scars, paws at his mouth, examines his teeth. Makes him minty fresh.

To think hardly an hour ago he had felt warm and cozy, full and happy. Now he felt chilled, empty, scrubbed painfully clean from the inside out. Nervous beyond belief.

“Ready for your grand debut, baby?”

Newt remains silent as he finally steps out of the shower.

“They have a long night in store for you, kid.”

“I’m not terribly young.” He’s given luxurious towels to dry with.

“Oh yes you are. You look boyish, exactly the type they’ve been looking for. And that accent! Hah! Whatever item Gnarlak promised you in exchange for this must be worth a ton.”

“Not an item. A friend.” Newt grips the towel tightly.

The man looks appalled as he does curious, “Now that’s a lie. This isn't a wholesome business, but we don't actually own anyone.”

Newt pauses, “Gnarlak wanted my bowtruckle. I couldn't, he’s my friend.”

His pierced features soften, and Newt thinks he might see a glint of sympathy “Ah. You really are a soft heart, aren’t you. They put the vow on you?” He asks with a tenderness previously absent.

Newt nods.

“I’m going to give you a little something special to make this first round easier. And I’m not even going to charge you for it.” He digs a packet of pills out of his pocket.

Newt’s eyes widen, “Oh, I don’t know if I want-”

“Trust me. You do.” He sighs, “You poor sweet thing.”

Will it really be that bad? Newt takes them with a shaking hand.

He’s slightly surprised when he’s given ordinary clothing after all is said and done.

There’s a knock at the door, followed by a deep voice, “Done in there?” It’s Sir.

As soon as he opens to door, Sir’s familiar grip on his arm returns. Distantly in the room, Newt can hear faint music, the clink of wine glasses, muffled voices. Instead of leading him there however, Sir pulls him against a wall, though not too roughly.

“Listen to me, Mr. Scamander. _Look_ at me too.” Sir whispers conspiratorially. Newt looks exasperatedly to the side before drawing his eyes back to the other man’s intense stare. “Our contract has some specifics I’m concerned you’re going to have a tough time with. And I prefer we not both die. So pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you, and tell me you understand.”

There’s a slight pause in which the hands loosely pinning him against the wall tighten, “Yes. . .Sir”

“When someone tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Even if you feel it might be too much, you need to make yourself take it.”

“Um. Yes, Sir.”

“Be eager for it. Your purpose entirely is the pleasure of strangers, and if you don’t satisfy them enough to compensate for what Boss might’ve made off that creature of yours, we’ll both be in hot water.”

Newt feels his head begin to swim, and it startles him slightly, but the fear is muted, as it also makes him feel more relaxed. Are the pills working already? “Y-yes, my purpose is for the pleasure of others.”

Sir tries to conceal a grunt. One of his hands runs up Newt’s sides, his neck, settles at his jaw where he rubs at his lips with his thumb, “Fuck. Did the damned fluffer give you something?”

Newt shivers. The pills really must have been magic. Sir’s touch feels stimulating yet somehow numb at the same time. He nods into the larger man’s palm, “I feel light. Am I in trouble?”

“ _Christ._ ” Sir pulls away, afraid he might lose self control and fuck the younger man right there, “No. Just remember what I told you.”

Newt is led back into the large room with all the mysterious items, and deposited on a bed that has been placed in the middle of the room. The lights are dim, and he can almost ignore the people standing around, lounging on couches, tinkering with cameras.

He can’t help but to lay down, close his eyes, and focus on the cloudy feeling engulfing his senses and sending a swell of adrenaline through his chest.

Suddenly, a weight presses down on him. He tries to hide his surprised sound, and when his arms move to gain leverage, he finds them quickly pinned down. He doesn’t try to free himself.

Hot breath whispers in his ear, “Feeling good over here?” Hips more robust than his own grind into him.

He answers truthfully, “I ah, feel strange.”

The stranger laughs, “Really is your first time with all this, huh? Come on, we’ve decided on the best way to break you.” He’s gently pushed towards Sir.

When he’s pulled up enthusiastically he swears he sees little white lights.

He finds himself in front of three men. There are others too, behind them, but they’re a blur in the dark light. Most of them wear simple black masks covering half their face hovering with perfect obscurity with magic force.

Hands push down his shoulders - getting the clue, he easily surrenders on his knees, eye-to-eye with how the men rub at themselves through their trousers. Sir, who led him here kneels behind him, slipping his arms around him, begins to undress him with impressive finesse.

Just as he observes his chest being revealed, a hand lifts his chin upwards. His eyes widen to see three erections near his face and the embarrassment is so strong he’s nearly nauseated by it.

“Mmm. He looks afraid. Are you afraid? Scared of cock?”

Another voice, “More like high.”

The voices sound vaguely underwater. He swallows.

A familiar grip on his arm - Sir is at his side, scolding him, “Answer.”

Tightly working the fabric on his trousers with his nerves he answers, “I’ve never done this but. But I, I want it.” He tries to hide behind his freshly cleaned and combed fringe.

“Well then, suck at it like you mean it, little slut.” The erection presses against his mouth unabashedly, the other two men begin stroking their own with more vigor.

Make it good, pleasure others, purpose - through the haze of the increasing potency of the pills he doesn’t find this a difficult sentiment to hold onto. In fact, it’s something he enjoys doing, using his gift of empathy to make others happy. They don’t know he wouldn’t have done this if he had any other choice.

He opens his mouth, puts out his tongue to let the length slide against it. The man grunts and hastily guides it into the mouth granting him entry. Behind him, the man pulls his dress shirt until it exposes his shoulders. He hears the click of a camera, winces at the flash.

Newt has the sense to mind his teeth, to allow himself to salivate, to lick against the sensitive head. Though he’s still not expecting it when the man grips the soft waves of his hair and thrusts. He gags on it until his eyes water mercilessly, but doesn’t back away. He does, perhaps, wish the pills were more numbing than stimulating. Even his mouth against this masked man’s penis has his skin buzzing with pleasure, making him feel dirty.

“That’s it, come on, take it all the way back, I’m paying good money here. . .” The grin in his voice is evident.

Newt thinks of taking hold of the cock to compensate for his inability to take it down his throat so far, but before he can hesitantly reach up, the man behind him pulls both wrists behind his back. Begins tying them. Newt makes a displeased sound. He’ll have to work with his throat the best he can.

He sucks and bobbs, does his best to make his tongue clever for the man’s pleasure - but it’s still not enough, as he insists upon the tight old of his hair, the deep thrusts. With each thrust his gag reflex forces his eyes to water more until there’s tears, and his throat becomes raw. The stranger soon begins to not only thrust deeper, but _linger._ He was certain he would vomit.

Breaking free and panting heavily, Newt has to warn him, “So, s-sorry, but I will, ah, c-certainly be sick all over everything if you keep that up…”

“Aww, sorry baby,” All three of them chuckle. “I guess I should stop holding out on ya. See, we got a special charm for that.”

Newt blinks with rapid confusement as the man’s wand is suddenly in his mouth much in the same way his cock was. It presses hard against his tongue, the masked man observing his reaction before casting. Newt stills, looks helplessly up. To have someone else’s wand pointed directly in his mouth was a terror he didn’t realize existed. He’s never felt so utterly in someone else's control. Any spell they might cast could destroy him from the inside out.

When the charm is finally cast, he feels warm slick liquid pour down his throat. He feels his muscles relax, his mouth numb.

Before he can question what exactly occurred, the erection is sliding down his throat again. And he feels….very little. A numb pleasure even. The other two men have stopped shying away - they rub themselves on his face as he holds the cock in his throat for an impossibly long time.

Like this, they easily use him, and he easily lets himself be used. He closes his eyes, focuses on the peculiar sensations in his mind and body with scientific curiosity.

One of the men has begun gripping at his throat, perhaps feeling where the hard organ plummets down his throat and bulges. A fearful thought that makes his breath quicken. He’s never felt adrenaline like this.

He almost forgot the man behind him, but he can feel him pull down his trousers. Feels something hard rub against his lower back.

There’s another warm spurt down his throat, and this one does make him choke slightly when he doesn’t think to try to swallow. The stranger pulls out, eases out the rest of his load on his face just as the other two men race to see who can get their cock in first. Eventually, they too have their way with his mouth and come on his face, neck, chest.

Another flash of the camera. This time Newt is too fucked out and focused on his breathing to wince.

The men leave him, leisurely return to one of the sofas and begin to converse among the others there.

He looks around sees Sir staring with wild intensity.

Newt asks, voice raw and faint, too faint for the others to hear, “Did we make enough?”

  
“Oh no. We’ve barely just begun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what wildness will occur when I continue. Probs gangbang. Maybe something super kinky that many people at the parties aren't interested in being done to themselves, like major deepthroat, certain bdsm stuff, crossdressing, fisting, etc....? Even if Newt ends up enjoying this and thinking of it as a bargain, it's still major sexual coercion/dubcon and I'm not willing to /not/ put that under the rape category.


End file.
